Get Your Premium Membership


In Hades, flows the chthonic Styx, a river of woe and pain (a channel thoroughfare; where Charon ferries the dead, who despair) which unnerves our damned souls till we quiver. The Styx! It's like cirrhosis which kills the liver, metastasizing there; but does not care; and tortures us beyond what we can bear! Because we are thrice-damned, we now shiver with the peals of the Stygian death-knell; while Heaven appears like a hope long dead (as if we’re ten-thousand feet deep in hell!), here, where the redeemed dare not walk or tread, we are but ghosts, like shades without a shell: yet, hell can we brave; but, the Styx we dread.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.